


[ Drabble Fic Collection ]

by ycnderes



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels), Far Cry 5, Life Is Strange (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Overwatch (Video Game), Until Dawn (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Dark, Multi, Yandere, dubcon, noncon, short drabble fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 14,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ycnderes/pseuds/ycnderes
Summary: no summary, we die like men





	1. Contents

**Author's Note:**

> everybody knows this is because of the great tumblr purge of 2018, right? anyway, these are all from my tumblr, and all of them i'm pretty sure were posted between january 2018 and now.

**BNHA**  
1\. Shinsou || Android/Alien Covenant AU  
2\. Present Mic || WTNV inspired  
3\. Shinsou || worship AU  
4\. Present Mic   
5\. Himiko  
6\. Katsuki  
7\. Izuku || Villain AU  
8\. Present Mic

**BTD**  
9\. Strade & Ren || Strade/reader/Ren sandwich  
10\. Ren || Masturbation fic  
11\. Ren  
12\. Strade || Immortal!reader AU  
13\. Ren

**Life is Strange**  
14\. Victoria  
15\. Nathan  
16\. Max  
17\. Nathan

**Until Dawn**  
18\. Josh || Wendigo!Josh AU  
19\. Emily  
20\. Josh  
21\. Josh  
22\. Emily

**Overwatch**  
23\. Moira  
24\. Hanzo  
25\. Junkrat

**MCU**  
26\. Tony  
27\. Thor

**FC5**  
28\. Jacob  
29\. John || Yandere!reader


	2. [1] Shinsou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: How about Android!Shinsou Hitoshi who's taken an unhealthy interest in the Medic*!Fem!Reader; Alien Themed. Maybe he's very reluctant for her to go out on expeditions and actually do her job and he gives every excuse in the book so she can't?? Or at the very least so he's always by her side?? Nsfw is always welcomed!

Shinsou doesn’t feel much

Well, he’s not supposed to.

Emotions are not supposed to interfere with his purpose. He was designed to be a tactical strategist, an almost perfect version of humanity. He’s human-like to make the rest of the crew feel at ease around him, what would he need human emotions for? Without emotion, he can do his job effectively.

There’s really no purpose for such feelings of… jealousy. Or rage. Or love. He doesn’t feel any of those.

So when Shinsou realizes he is experiencing emotion, when he realizes he does have feelings of jealousy, and rage, and love, he knows he should turn himself in for a check up. Or a tuning.

Something needs to happen, something in his code needs to be removed.

Androids don’t need emotions. Don’t need to feel anything. There is something wrong with him. He knows this.

So when you smile at him, and similes of sunshine and completeness fill his mechanical guts with an ache, he doesn’t do anything about it.

It makes him ache within him, seeing you. And he knows every single component that makes him up - to know what you are is to know who you are - but he cannot locate where this gnawing pain is coming from. Cannot find it within the code, cannot find it in the gears.

What could someone else find? Would they be able to find anything?

Nonetheless, it doesn’t affect him. Doesn’t affect his duties. Doesn’t change how he tells the team to move in uncharted, possibly dangerous territory. He treats every human under his charge the same.

So you remain in the middle of the team, just like always. Medic bag by your side, you’re needed up with everyone else, just in case something goes wrong.

At the next place, on the next mission, it just makes more sense for you to stay at the designated safe zone while the rest of the team goes forward. There’s no reason to possibly risk one of the only medics in the crew.

Actually, Shinsou realizes at the very next planet - teeming with beautiful flora that clings and climbs up sheer cliffs - that it truly would be the best strategy to just leave you at the ship. They have another medic who can climb the mountains with them, it would be better if you stayed to keep things ready -- just in case, of course.

So Shinsou isn’t affected by emotions at all really. They don’t distract him from his mission. You do not distract him from his core purpose. He’s supposed to watch over the team. He must make sure every human under his care stays safe.

That’s all it is, he thinks to himself as he watches you undress on the screen. One of the pilot’s gotten sick, almost violent coughing and bruises are covering his body. You’ve done the best you can, but all that’s left is to wait and see.

You don’t worry about your nudity as you get into the shower; but then, you don’t know about the camera, so why would you worry?

You shouldn’t worry anyway, it’s just him watching.

So, honestly, swear on his processors, Shinsou is fine. He’s just looking out for his crew. And when the pilot dies, and the next person gets sick, he’s just doing his job by putting her down -- she doesn’t go quiet, but the sickness would’ve hurt more, so really his actions are more like a mercy. He’s protecting the crew! If it’s as contagious as it seems it could easily spread till everyone is sick.

It spreads yet again, this time to the other medic, and he realizes that emotions truly are humanity’s downfall.

Why would you risk yourself, risk your life, for someone who is going to die? You argue with him and fight as he drags you back to the quarantined section of the ship. You will not die.

Shinsou must protect the crew.

 

The medic dies.

The next person gets sick from within the quarantine, and he feels like he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

Why are they trying to get you sick?

Why are they trying to kill you?

 

So he does what he must to fulfill his coding. One by one, he goes through and eliminates all the threats to his crew. He takes the bodies and disposes them into space. 

So, Shinsou’s crew is now safe. Now it’s just you and him.


	3. [2] Present Mic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> asked: Have you seen welcome to nightvale? The first couple episodes, when Cecil is talking about Carlos before they get into a relationship , is the sort of thing I think present mic would say over the air about his victim. Thoughts on that?  
> \---  
> And from that came this fic.

“Good morning, listeners! And a special little shout-out and good morning to you,” Present Mic says something that sounds suspiciously like your name and you jerk your head to the radio. You stare at it as Mic continues his spiel for the early morning broadcast, but he doesn’t say anything else like your name.

Shaking your head, you chide yourself with a small roll of your eyes. Yeah, like a pro hero had somehow noticed you, and found out your name, and totally just gave you a shout out on his famous radio show.

Your letters are a little more shaky on the page under your hand, and you can’t lie to yourself. The moment this episode is up on Mic’s website, you’re totally going to download and listen to it.

Just to be sure, of course.

 

\---

 

“Now, the villain did escape the police as of twenty minutes ago, but some top heroes are on the case and will have him back in custody soon. However, to all of my listeners in nearby districts, stay safe! Especially you...” His voice croons on and you slam your pencil down. That was definitely your name. “You stay safe too, sweetheart. Maybe walk home with a friend tonight, okay?”

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat. You must be imagining this. He can’t be talking about you. There must be over a hundred people with your name who listen to Mic’s show, it can’t be you.

But you’re still at work, and you are in a nearby district from where the villain was spotted.

Your hands shake as you turn off the radio, Mic’s comfortingly loud voice stops, and you gather up your things. You feel sick to your stomach, and even though you have plenty of papers to work through, you now feel anxious. The worry forms like a heavy weight in your gut before you finish packing up, and you call a friend and ask her to come pick you up.

 

\---

 

You can’t help it, it’d been a week since you’d listened to Mic’s show, and you miss it. His humor is infectious, and you almost always like the music he plays.

You’ve been making this whole thing a lot bigger than it is. He’s obviously found someone with your same name, in the same general area as you. And it can’t be you, because he’s never met you.

So, therefore, it can’t be you.

Honestly, it makes you feel better; Mic’s voice carries in your small apartment as you get ready for bed, and it’s nice to have the sound back in your life. 

He starts to talk about his latest concert as you strip out of your work clothes. He talks about who opened, what a fantastic job they did, and you do wish you’d managed to make it. It’s disappointing, but you still feel excited for when you finally get to see him live.

“... concert was amazing, I was so happy to see so many of my devoted fans! However, my favorite fan wasn’t there… Baby, are you nervous? I don’t bite.” Mic’s chuckle echoes through the speakers and your pajama shirt slips from your fingers.

Maybe you won’t go to his concert.

 

\---

 

Present Mic doesn’t mention this mystery person every broadcast. It’s sporadic, no more than once or twice a show, and only once every three to four shows he even mentions this person at all.

The forum boards still haven’t figured out who he could be talking about.

You’re positive it isn’t you, but the way some people talk online… You log off.

His radio show is playing in your headphones, and you try to focus. But it’s a challenge, difficult to focus when you’re almost waiting to hear your name, and almost definitely dreading hearing your name.

“... So listeners, I know everyone’s been asking who my new interest is… Well, here’s a little hint! Two days ago, I spotted my lovely doll out shopping. Sweetheart, if you’re listening, I absolutely loved that blue shirt. The one with the little detailing on the collar? You got your hair cut recently! It’s cute…” His voice drops a notch. “If I hadn’t been so busy with hero business I would’ve stopped you to compliment you then, but this’ll have to do for now~!”

You shiver in your seat. It… couldn’t be.

It’s too vague. Even though you were wearing a blue shirt with detailing on the collar two days ago, it couldn’t have been you.

You run your hand through your hair, lighter since your haircut. The worry is forming in your stomach. You go to exit out of the show, feeling thoroughly creeped out, and Mic’s words echo in your ears before you can turn it off. “I hope you’re having a wonderful day, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you soon!”


	4. [3] Shinsou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written after the 2018 Met Gala with lots of Florence + the Machine lol. Basically a song fic.

_ (Such selfish prayers, I can’t get enough) _

Catching a god is easy, keeping them is not. Worshipping a creature like you should be easy, but You make it difficult.

Every offering is cast aside, every sacrifice is mocked and Shinsou understands, he does. He laid his traps and lies and caught the object of G L O R Y. His home is remodeled into a sanctuary for You, decorated in expensive fabrics and items, opulent colors, with everything You could possibly need. And it’s still not enough.

Sometimes, he forgets, You are not a kind god. A kind god would take what they need, You are a warmonger -- You conquer and take until there is nothing left and You want more, more, more.

He loves You for that.

_ (Spilled milk tears, I did this for you) _

Shinsou finds people, weak-willed and soft, and he makes them work until their fingers bleed. He brings You dresses of glass and metal. Rich fabric so heavy but You will bear it. Crushed velvet and lace drip off of Your skin, You look powerful. You look like a queen, like a goddess, a celestial body. 

Wondrous and terrible, he almost can’t look at You. He has a veil made of the finest silk, and crowns You with it, covers Your all-knowing eyes, and he can worship again.

_ (I’m not here looking for absolution)  _

Time after time, he kneels before You. His eyes linger only a second on the chains keeping You here. It’s not right, he knows it’s not, but how can he worship You if You aren’t there. How can he adore You? How can he love Y O U?

_ (Because I found myself an old solution) _

He touches You in reverence, You are precious and worthy. He knows he’s disgusting and doesn’t deserve this but he makes his confessions as he slips his hands up into Your skirts and delves between Your thighs in reverence.

_ (This is your body) _

He tries to make You understand his love.

_ (This is your love) _

What is a god without its followers? Nothing.

_ (Such selfish prayers,) _

You would be  _ nothing _ without him, he reminds You. But he shakes his head as Your legs shake around him; kill for You, die for You, what matters is  **You** . His tongue scrapes against Your plush cunt as he begs You for a taste of salvation.

_ (I can’t get enough) _

He is a worm under Your heel, but when he brings you up up up, and then over the edge, it’s like he’s a god too. He is baptized as a new god when You cum around his tongue and fingers. Baptized in your cum, baptized in your pleasure, and he is a new man -- born again.


	5. [4] Present Mic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Maybe a short drabble with Hizashi and his victim? Like almost overbearing affection with promises that they’re never going to escape to the point where it’s overwhelming the reader

“Annnnd, there we go!” Hizashi straightens the nightgown a bit more. The soft tulle and ribbon fits you perfectly. Soft and perfect and sweet. “You look so cute, baby!” He tries. It’s been a hard day for you.

You fiddle with the ends of one of the ribbons. “Thank you,” your voice is quiet, but he can hear that sullen attitude leaking through. It’s enough to make him feel a little discouraged, but he can’t be the discouraged one, not when he has to protect you.

He squishes your cheeks together with both hands and kisses you, a little too hard sure, but it’s to ground you. Remind you what’s real. You struggle just the smallest bit under him, and he hates that. Hates that you refuse to listen to what’s best for you.

Letting go, you refuse to look at him. “... Can I go to bed now?” You ask, but you sound so petulant, like he’s the one at fault for this.

“Yeah, baby,” Hizashi says. Sleep usually helps. “I love you!” He kisses you again, this time on your cute little forehead. “I love you so much!” He smiles at you, and it’s true. Would he do all this if he didn’t?

You don’t respond, already getting settled.

Oh well, maybe in the morning…

He gets up and flicks the light switch, drowning the light. Pausing at the door, “Y’know,” he starts. “You’re never going to leave, right?”

There’s no noise, as if you’ve already fallen asleep, but it takes a bit of tossing and turning to get fully comfortable, so he doubts you actually are. “You’re never going to leave this house,” he continues. “You’ll never see your friends again, or your family. All you have left is me.” He’s making himself upset, this is hurtful to say, but it’s the truth. “The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get past this, sweetie.” He pauses. The blankets don’t move and you don’t apologize. He sighs, “I love you, baby. Sleep well.”


	6. [5] Himiko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: A scenario with Toga and male reader! Where Toga uses her quirk to look like reader's crush and lure him to a trap? Hope that's good enough.

“Here? Seriously?” You can’t help how nervous you sound as her hands slither up your shoulders and she grins wider than you’ve ever seen before. This doesn’t feel right, none of this feels right.

“Yeah! Doesn’t it feel naughty? Doesn’t it feel dangerous?” she giggles, all soft and fluttering while her grip on you feels like steel. And that can’t be right. She doesn’t talk like that, doesn’t want to have sex in a dark alley where anyone could -

She kisses you, tongue forcing its way into your mouth, and for a second you’re lost. You close your eyes and allow her to press you further into the wall. Wait. Would she do this? Would she be forceful? “Wait, wait!” You gasp and pull yourself away. “Something’s d-different about you,” you try to explain, as she looks at you so earnestly with those big eyes. “Is something wrong?” You ask.

She bursts out laughing, and her body shifts, like a glitch. “Sorry, honey-bunches, I thought you wouldn’t notice!” And her skin melts away, leaving behind another girl. A different girl. With blonde hair, and feverish eyes, you feel like you’ve seen her before, but you can’t remember. She pulls something sharp and glinting out of her pocket and holds it against your throat. “I like this better anyway,” she whispers, and the knife cuts.


	7. [6] Katsuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: For the prompt thingy, "Wear that outfit I like tonight, you know the one." and "I want you to say you love me. Say it and mean it." With Katuski from bnha, I know in previous hcs you said he'd give his s/o pretty dresses so I thought the first one would be perfect for him,

The alarm on the nightstand blares, jolting Katsuki up. Grabbing it, he turns off and waits. You shift next to him, but you don't tense, and he lets out a soft huff. It's too early to listen to any bullshit.

Moving quietly, he slips onto the carpet and pads over to the dressers. There's almost no light, too early, so it's more out of habit that he finds his outfit. He fumbles closing the door, and the noise is impossibly loud in the silent room.

A quick glance, and yeah, you're waking up. You unwind yourself from the blankets, ungraceful and unaware. It's both adorable and agonizing. That moment, less than a second, where you don't know where you are, or who you're with, and you look so sweetly confused. It's over too fast, anger or sadness or some other stupid emotion clear as day on your face.

It's too late now, the realization sets in heavy like lead in your eyes and your shoulders and Katsuki resigns himself. "Hey," he says, hating that you still flinch even though it's been months. "I wanna take you out tonight, someplace nice. Wear that green dress I like, okay?"

"What dress?"

The dead tone in your voice immediately makes his hackles rise, but he tries to stay calm. "The one the ol' hag made for you, matches my... hero getup." He finishes dressing, you don't say anything. 

"Don't stay in bed all day," he finally says, setting down on the bed to pull on his boots.

"Why not?"

"It's not good for you."

You mumble something, snotty and derisive sounding and, fuck, he's trying his best here. "What."

"What do you want from me? I do what you say," you don't even look at him. "I listen, I obey, I dress however you want me to dress! What else do you want?"

It takes so much not to yell, not to scream until it gets through your thick head. "I want you to say you love me," he says through clenched teeth. "I want you to say it, and mean it."

You sigh like you think he's pathetic. "Don't hold your breath."

He stands up stiff, his patience has drained down to Deku-levels and he's going to say something horrible if he stays any longer. "Just be ready," he says and he hesitates at the bedroom door. "I love you."


	8. [7] Izuku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: A yandere villain deku please? Like a scenario on how he would manipulate his kind "s/o" to be and/or to stay in a relationship?

"See, that's why I like you so much," Izuku is all sharp edges and sharp smiles today, and even though there's a table between you, you feel trapped. "You're just so nice. Y'know how hard that is to find nowadays? Someone genuinely kind?"

Words clump at the base of your tongue, but nothing comes out.

"Yeah," he nods anyway, eyes bright and fervent. "Seriously, I just hate the idea of you getting hurt. Or, even worse, your family."

"What?" You croak.

"Well, it'd just be horrible if something happened to your family, y'know? And, if you go through with that 'breaking-up' nonsense, I just worry that I won't be around to protect them. Or you." His words sink under your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"You can't-"

"I would never," he gasps, hands coming up as if he's so surprised. "Like I said," he lowers his eyes speculatively. "I'm just worried. It really seems like a bad idea to me."

And it is a bad idea. You should've just packed your things and left, you shouldn't have given him this opportunity.

"... Okay, Izuku." The words taste like ash and finality in your mouth.

"Oh, baby, really?" He smiles nice and slow. "Y'still love me?"

You're quiet for too long and he reaches over and grabs your face. He squeezes your jaw in warning.

"You love me, right?" He's no longer Izuku, the bright green-haired man you fell for, but Deku.

Then again, he hasn't been Izuku for a long time.

 


	9. [8] Present Mic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: “If you want to regain my trust, you have to earn it.” “Don’t just say you’re sorry. Show me that you’re sorry.” I love your blog so much and I was hoping you could use either one of these starters for Hizashi

Sunshine filters through the windows, bathing the kitchen in cookie-warm light. A soft haze enters your veins where the rays touch your skin. You dance your fingers on the table in front of you, nearly dozing as Hizashi hums along to the radio.

"It looks good," you say when he brings the plates to the table, setting both in front of his chair.

"Thanks, baby!" He gives you a winning grin, doesn't bother turning down the music before he sits down. You rise, about to get another fork and he grabs your wrist. "Sit down."

"There's only one fork-"

"I know that, silly," his smile is like the sun: bright and soft and warm. "C'mon, sit back down."

You obey, and he lifts a small bite out towards you. "No way."

"Aww, baby, c'mon..." He teases you with it. "Aren't you hungry?"

You roll your eyes. "Hizashi, I'm not a child."

"Yeah, you're right. But if you wanna regain my trust, you have to earn it.” He's still smiling though, your past behavior just that, in the past. "I promise I'm not gonna bite."

And maybe it's the drowsy yellow light seeping into your bones, but you chuckle and open your mouth obligingly.

"Good girl," he licks his lips and feeds you. "Not that difficult, right?"

You chew slowly, enjoying the taste, and nod. 


	10. [9] Strade & Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Lol i have no idea how to phrase this but, Could you write something where strade thinks its about time That he, ren, and mc "get to know each other better"? preferably nsfw with a fem mc but you don't have to!

What a good fucking night it’s been. **  
**

Strade waves at the camera, last one for the night, and turns it off. He takes a moment to check the video’s stats.

Lotta viewers tonight, and he feels fucking giddy when he sees how much they’ve paid tonight. The woman on the floor isn’t alive, but he doesn’t mind as he nudges her with his foot. “Look! They liked you so much,” he says.

The dark empty sockets seem to stare at him as he chuckles. “Too bad you can’t do another show, you and I coulda made a lot of money.” He says offhandedly as he clicks on the screen to transfer the money to his accounts.

He looks at her again and smiles. Man, what a good fucking night!

He doesn’t even bother cleaning up, right now is more a cause for celebration than for cleaning, but he feels so good and amped up, like he could take on the world. And he knows exactly what he wants.

So he doesn’t wash the gore from himself, lets the blood dry until it stretches his skin taut and cracks against his muscles and tendons. He goes into the living room and calls for you and waits by the doorway.

—

Nobody can hear it from outside, and Ren tells you that he’s never once heard anyone, but you feel like you can hear the screams from below.

It’s probably your imagination. But the hours pass and you can’t help but shudder at what must be going on down there. You try to focus on other things.

Ren is in his room, doing god knows what, and you try to read.

Try to ignore what you must be imagining.

Then, after it’s been going on for far too long - but you can’t sleep, you cannot go to sleep while Strade is in the basement doing those things. It may be irrational, but you fear if you fall asleep during it, you’ll wake up down there. But, you hear the basement door open. You can hear Strade’s heavy footsteps, even on the carpet – he must’ve not taken off his boots yet – and he calls for you.

His voice sounds cheerful enough, and you hope selfishly it’s been a good night for him, but he always sounds cheerful. Even when he’s not. So there’s really no way of knowing what mood he’s actually in.

You feel scared, but you’re always scared when it comes to Strade. You walk into the living room and he grabs you.

His hand spans across your throat and he slams you into the wall. You scream in surprise but try not to struggle, try not to make him mad.

He gets close, and he hasn’t washed at all and he smells like copper and body odor and you nearly gag when he leans close and kisses you. His hand cups your cheek and squeezes it hard, his other reaches down and slides into your underwear. Thick fingers probe into you, and you hate how the roughness is quickly making you wet.

He ends the kiss by biting down on your bottom lip, you moan until he bites too hard and you cry out, tears already starting to fall down your cheeks. He laughs and licks a sticky stripe up your face to your tears.

He must decide you’re ready enough then as he pushes you across the arm of the couch and pulls your underwear down to your knees. You hear the clink of his belt behind you and try to calm yourself. Your hands clench and unclench against the couch fabric as you feel the head rub against you. You let out a broken moan and push back just the smallest bit.

Strade laughs, “No, no, little girl. Stay right there.” And on the word ‘there’, he pushes into you. It’s not as rough as he normally is, but you’re wetter than usual. Probably because you haven’t seen a knife or a power tool yet. He speeds up until he’s hammering into you. His dick in you for a moment and then ripped out and shoved back in.

You gasp and cry and moan and you try to enjoy it, even though sometimes it hurts. And then he nearly comes to a stop.

You look behind at him, but he’s looking down the hallway. “Come here, Ren!” He says. He’s smiling, and it looks slightly unhinged, but that might be all of the blood.

Ren slinks into the room, his cheeks red as he looks straight at Strade and ignores you. Your face burns too, but neither of you will ever fight Strade on this.

Strade pulls out of you with a wet ‘pop!’ and you accidentally whine, hating yourself for that empty feeling. He pushes you until you fall halfway onto the floor and directs you to get onto the couch. You sit there and he prods at you until your legs fall open and you can’t hide your wet cunt.

“I think,” Strade starts. “It’s about time you two crazy kids got to know each other better!” He claps his hands together and looks between them.

Ren’s ears are down, he doesn’t look at you but his glare could light the floor on fire. You know when you came along he hadn’t exactly ever liked you. You’d taken too much attention away from him. Good or bad, you wish that he still had all the attention. But that’s not what Strade wants right now.

He stands there between the two of you, the silence getting louder every second. “What are you waiting for?” He asks Ren, and it sounds gentle. It sounds like two friends who’ve known each other for years, but every soft thing from Strade is dangerous, and Ren knows that.

So he doesn’t say anything, just steps closer until he’s between your legs. He doesn’t bother undressing, just unzips and pulls it down enough to release his cock. It’s barely hard, and you wonder what’ll happen if he can’t get it up in time.

Ren refuses to look at your face, and normally – if this had been anywhere close to a normal situation – you would’ve been a little insulted. But his head brushes against your lips, and you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. He runs it up and down your slit, and pumps at it until it’s finally hard. It’s less girthy than Strade’s, but longer by a good few inches.

Finally, he hisses as he pushes into you and he’s slow to start up much of a rhythm, but you can hear him growl under his breath when he starts to pump into you.

Then he lifts one of your legs and puts it onto his shoulder. He shoves you down onto the seat of the couch, and crawls up next to you so he can really fuck you. And he does, in and out and in and out and then he picks up speed.

And you look at Strade, which is a mistake as always; he’s pumping his own dick in his hand. His tongue is out and he’s drooling slightly. He looks like an idiot, which is dangerous because he’s not an idiot. Not at all.

Your gaze must’ve been on him too long, Ren growls low in his throat and his claws pierce into your sides and you immediately look back at him.

He’s now looking at you, dead in the eye. His face is still red, but now it’s more in exertion than embarrassment. His hair falls into his face and you reach up to brush it away from his eyes, and he grabs at your hand. He sniffs at the inside of your wrist, and licks it before biting into the soft flesh.

You scream as blood wells up and runs down your arm, and Ren licks it up. His tongue lathes at the wound, all while he stares straight into your eyes and pounds into you, and his dick rubs just the right way and you stiffen up and your release hits you hard.

It rides through your body, and tears start to fall again when Ren doesn’t give up, doesn’t give you a moment to focus on it and completely fucks you through it.

Strade, maybe tired of being out a third wheel, reaches over to fondle your breast. His fingers brush against your nipple and it stiffens, and Ren snaps.

You wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it, but the moment Strade touches you, Ren bites him. His sharp teeth plunge into Strade’s skin and just like that he lets go.

He seems to burrow closer to you. His hips never stop snapping into you, but he knows what he did. You all know what he did; Strade’s bleeding.

His arm is bleeding, and he rises up a bit and looks at it. Then looks at both you and Ren.

Ren doesn’t fight when Strade punches him straight in the face.

It’s a hard hit, and Ren slips out of you and falls halfway off the couch. Strade shoves him the rest of the way off the couch and sits in his spot. He snarls when Ren tries to get up.

“Stop. I have a different job for you.” He gestures to his cock, and Ren doesn’t say anything, just obeys.

Strade lets out a loud, happy moan and fists one hand into Ren’s hair, and he holds still so Strade can fuck his mouth.

Strade then looks at you, and his smile is slow and happy. What a fucking snake, you think. And it must show on your face – because you refuse to believe he can read your mind – and he digs into one of his pockets and pulls out a switchblade.

He flicks it open, and brings it close to your cunt. “Do you want this in you?” He asks you. His tone is light, but his eyes are watching you too closely.

You shake your head. “Please, Strade -” Your voice catches in your throat as the knife’s blade dips against your slit. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s so close. “Please, I don’t want that.” You beg him.

“No?” He asks, pulling it a few scant inches away from your soft body. “You sure?” He sounds confused, and you hate him with every fiber in your body. “Your cunt likes having things in it, a lot. You sure you don’t wanna fuck this knife?” He asks again.

You shake your head and tears are starting again, but that seems to appease Strade. He pushes Ren away from him, and pulls you up and onto his lap.

The saliva on his dick cools from the air, and it feels like slime as you’re lowered onto it. You groan as it forces into you, it hurts. Strade looks around you and waves at Ren. “Thank you for your help, little fox.” He says jovially. “Now go to your room, time for the adults now.”

Ren nods, doesn’t look at you, and you can hear him walking into the hallway. His door squeaks as it opens, and then it shuts.

Now, it’s just the two of you, again.

Strade grins and slides his hands up and down your sides. “He got a lil’ riled up earlier, didn’t he?” He murmurs as he pulls you close. Your head rests on his chest, and he pats your hair. His dick throbs once or twice, but he doesn’t pull out of you.

“Don’t want him getting the wrong idea,” Strade says finally.

You nod against him.

“Don’t wanna come home one day to find you pregnant with a bunch of little foxes, right?” His fingers tangle in your hair, but he just pulls lightly. Enough for it to sting, but it’s almost an affectionate thing, coming from him. “I’d have to drown ‘em, the lil’ monsters.” He chuckles and you close your eyes tight. Focus on your breathing.

He lets go of your hair and pats you again on the top of your head. His hands then come around your waist. It must’ve been a good night, you think. as he starts to fuck you again in earnest.


	11. [10] Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: A scenario with Ren and a female reader when he’s in heat? He loves her but Strade is in the way of him doing anything about it. So maybe you can do masturbation or Ren with the reader. It would be interesting to see him try and get to the reader while Strade was home with them. Non con if he gets to the reader though.

“Are you okay?” You ask Ren, your hand gently lands on his forearm and it burns. He can’t help but flinch at the feel of your skin on his, and his ears flatten against his skull.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” He mutters, tearing his arm out of your grasp and stalking to the other side of the counter.

Your eyes fall, and you say something, too soft for him to hear, and he knows it was an apology. Which, it isn’t exactly fair to blame you for the heat now pulsing from your touch to every other part of his body. But he’s not going to blame himself for his own heat. Not when you’re right there, smelling  _so_  good, like you want him. Like you caused this.

Ren rips his eyes away from you, when Strade catches wind of this, it’ll be worse. You look up at him again, mouth opening to say something, and he can see inside you. Pink flesh, moist with saliva and warmth. Just waiting for him to fuck it.

Waiting for him to fuck you.

Wait –  _fuck_!

Ren growls, deep and guttural, and you stop mid-sentence. You look hurt, but he can’t keep looking at you anyway, so he leaves.

He’s so fucked.

—-

 _Strade’s gonna gut me_ , Ren squishes the pillow in his hands, trying to shape it into… something. It refuses to stay, and his claws catch on it.

“Fuck!” He screams, giving in and tearing it in half and throwing it across the room. A wave of warmth floods him and he moans brokenly at the feeling. The nest in the middle of his bed isn’t ready, but it’ll have to do. He needs to do something, needs to prepare, need to get. He needs —

He needs you. Needs you fucking him in the middle of the nest he made, needs you to scent him and bite him  _and_  -

It’ll never happen. You’re Strade’s.

Ren collapses into his nest, and a full-body shiver wracks his body. He bites his arm, the skin breaks under his teeth and the blood streams down his arm. The pain hits like a slap to the face, and it’s just enough to break the heat, but only for a few moments.

He stumbles up and manages to lock the door. It won’t stop Strade if he decides he wants to come in, but it makes him feel safer. Checking his water bottles and snacks, he can feel the heat crawling through him again. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter if he has water or food, it doesn’t matter that his nest isn’t finished, nothing matters, except for the heat in his veins that’s pooling in his stomach.

He falls face-forward into the comforters and pillows, and screams into them, cursing his fucking body and his fucking life. The heat builds in him, until he can feel it in every blood vessel. It’s too much. Pulling and scrambling to tear his clothes off of him, he tries to breathe, to calm himself and cool down.

The blankets don’t compare to your soft skin, but he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your body draped over him. Panting, he palms at his cock. It’s almost painful, already leaking precum, and he knows it won’t be an easy heat with only his hand to help.

Eyes shut tight, he strokes himself, and thinks of you.


	12. [11] Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: For the stalker/possessive prompts, "Don't look at me like that, like you're afraid of me" with Ren of BTD2 please?

Blood splatters in an arc as Ren tears through the man’s throat like he’s shredding paper. It continues to pump for a moment, weakening as the arterial spray catches the walls, the floor, and Ren. A laugh rasps from his throat. “See? See how easy it is?” **  
**

He looks back at you and you can’t keep looking at him. He’s like a monster. Blood and ichor sinks into his skin and it stalks behind his eyes as if when he sees you he sees prey. Something skittish and fleshy for him to chase. For him to devour.

“You can do this too, I know you can.” He whispers but it echoes in the room. He leaves the corpse on the floor, and crawls over to you on his hands and knees. His eyes, yellow and strange and hungry, meet yours. He whines, low in his throat, trying to get you to lower your guard.  “Don’t look at me like that.” He says.

“Like what?” You breathe them more than speak them. And you wish you could sound strong, but you can’t. You are what he thinks, weak and small and terrified.

Hands come up and cradle your face, you can feel the sticky gore streak against your skin as he leans in to kiss you. “Like you’re afraid of me,” his lips brush yours and it feels like he’s toying with his meal. “Don’t be afraid of me.”


	13. [12] Strade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Can you do an imagine where Strade’s s/o can’t die or rot?? And she’s totally into the same shit he is?

The knife thrusts into your stomach, ripping and tearing upwards, and when it hits bone you taste steel on your tongue. You can’t even scream, it’s so much. Gurgling out words and blood and spit, it all dribbles down the sides of your mouth and your chin.

Strade grins above you, he straddles you as he splits you from stomach to sternum. You can feel grinding against you, the rough fabric catching every exposed nerve and you moan again. “Oh baby, do that again,” he breathes, eyes nearly rolling back.

He stabs the knife into the meat of your shoulder, and you shake under him like you’re having a seizure. You’re almost in too much pain to differentiate it all, which is just as well, you’re getting closer and closer to the edge. Leaving the knife, he runs his hands over what’s left of your flesh. He chuckles as he squeezes your tits, blood, and fatty tissue squirts out of the deep gouges, and you groan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” he says, almost like an afterthought as he drags himself up your body. “All spread out, ripped and torn and bleeding… I love it.” He kisses your open mouth. “You gettin’ close yet?”

You try to say something, anything for Strade, but another pitiful noise barely makes it out of your throat.

“Don’t push yourself, I got it,” he smiles at you like a wolf smiles at a rabbit. “Just a bit more, and then we’re done, okay? Now, let’s split some fingers.”


	14. [13] Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: “Look me in the eyes when I talk to you” for ren

Ren’s hand trails across your skin, from your hip up to your chest, and back down. You’re curled up against him, not sleeping, just resting. It’s nice, that you trust him. Well, you don’t trust him. But you’re here, you haven’t made him leave. So that’s enough for him, that’s all he needs. He loves you. “I love you,” he says. And he does.

It’s nice to have someone like you, someone brave and strong. So unlike him. It’s nice that you’re here, next to him, loving him, happy to be with him. If he could sink, deep deep deep, into your flesh, he would. Maybe you don’t love him, but he loves you. And that’s enough for him. “I love you,” he tries again.

You don’t say anything back. He doesn’t like that. He wishes you would look at him, he wishes you’d talk to him. He does love you, he does. That’ll have to be enough for him. And it is. He just… He wishes he could crawl into you, make a home in the hollows of your heart and stay there. He’d be safe, he knows, safe inside of you.

Pressing soft with his claws, he indents where your neck joins the meat of your shoulder. He pushes, just a bit, and feels you tense under him. It’s just to hold you, he promises. You are his. He reminds himself that again: you’re his. You’re here. “I love you,” he says urgently. It’s important that you know that. Can you feel it? Can you feel it rushing through his veins and arteries, carrying  _you_  like a virus into every corner of his anatomy? “Can you please look at me?” He doesn’t mind begging, not when it’s important. “Can you look at me when I’m talking, please?”

A noise, lying between a sigh and a sob, escapes you. And he has to try his best not to turn you and lick up your tears. He settles beside you, still holding you, but not so tight. This is enough for him. It has to be enough.


	15. [14] Victoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Something with Victoria and a female reader would be cool. A scenario where Victoria and the reader are both crushing really hard on each other. And they both happen to go to the same Vortex party.

Music pulses through the room like a heartbeat, the bass so loud Victoria can feel it in her skin, can feel it in her veins, and she wants to scream. She sips her drink instead, watching you.

The alcohol burns on the way down, the lemony aftertaste almost too sour, but you’re drinking a lemon drop, so she takes a big gulp of it. And you don’t look at her, and that’s more bitter than the drink.

You should be looking at her. You should be on your knees, begging for her attention. Or, you should be on a bed, begging her for more. Her face reddens, and she hasn’t had enough yet for it to be the drinks, but she would never admit to her real thoughts.

Victoria keeps an eye on you as the night goes on, as you go from tipsy to drunk, as your friends desert you one by one to dance or – honestly, whatever, she doesn’t care about any of them. She takes her time moving closer to you, and then, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” she yells over the music.

You seem surprised, is it because of Victoria? She thinks so. She hopes so. “I’m pretty new,” you shout back, a beautiful open smile lazily dripping onto your face, and she hates it. Hates how easy that was, as if you know her feelings, as if you know how much she wants to touch you. “Transferred at the start of the semester.”

And you introduce yourself as if she doesn’t already know your full name, your birth date, and your hometown. But that’s okay, you feel safe, and that’s what matters. “It’s a little loud,” she says, rolling her eyes, and slouching just the perfect amount against the wall, just like this, so her skin peeks out of her shirt and her barely-there curves are framed just right. “You wanna go out?” She gestures towards the door, and, sweet little thing that you are, you agree.

You nod your head, smiling big enough to show your teeth, like an honest smile doesn’t hurt. Like you can just show your happiness without worrying about what other people think.

Victoria grabs your hand, it’s a little sweaty but she’ll forgive you, and she thinks it’s okay for you to smile like that, for you to be open like that, as long as it’s for her. Only for her.


	16. [15] Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: “No one will ever love you as much as I love you.” + josh washington OR nathan prescott for the meme pls thank you

Nathan brushes against you as he opens your shirt. It lays teasingly open, peeking at the skin underneath, at your chest, the fabric waiting to be fully spread. Even though it doesn’t show almost anything, you feel naked.

Stepping back to the camera, the lights flash as he takes a few pictures. There’s a small smile on his lips, soft and at home, and he looks more comfortable than you’ve ever seen him. Wherever you are, he’s home.

You haven’t been able to move since you woke up, it takes effort to blink. You want to scream. You try to scream. Nothing.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?” He asks, his voice raspy, like he’s been interrupted during something more personal. Not waiting for an answer, and why should he, he moves the camera a foot to the left and snaps a few more.

You thought you could trust him. You thought he was a friend.

He comes back, ready to place you again. You’re like a doll as he sets you up against a chair. He positions your arms and your legs, he plays with your hair till it’s the right type of messy. His touch burns against you as he lingers over you.

Nathan looks the happiest you’ve ever seen him. He makes a move to get up, but pauses, trembles, and turns. Burying his face into your hair, he breathes your scent in deep, all of your anger and terrible, aching fear. “No one,” he whispers soft. “No one will **ever**  love you as much as I love you.” And he kisses you, reverently, as you close your eyes.


	17. [16] Max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: “Did you find the gifts I’ve been leaving you?” With max and a female crush :))

Max has lived in these apartments for, what, close to five years now, and she’s never really noticed any of her neighbors. Sure, they pass and might nod at each other in greeting in the hallways or elevator, but beyond that there’s no contact. What would be the point?

And what exactly is the point of what you’re doing? Talk to anyone, Max is definitely a believer of the good in people, but it’s still a surprise when you bring up her mail and drop it off at her door. She tries to remember when you moved in next to her, but honestly, she can’t remember. You couldn’t have been here longer than a month before you seemed to realize she doesn’t grab her mail until it fills up her box downstairs.

She’s surprised, pleasantly. It’s kind of you. So she makes sure to say thank you, and you smile back, telling you it’s no problem, just what neighbors do.

What neighbors do you have? She wants to ask, but she leaves it at that.

And the habit continues, you grab her mail and packages and bring it up to the tenth floor, dropping her stuff off before heading into your own apartment. Sometimes she’ll catch you right as she’s getting back, or leaving, but just as often she’s not even there. Busy with shoots and models and the people who pay her for what she can capture.

It’s nice, being able to forget about that little chore. Once in a while you leave a note on Max’s door, “won’t be able to pick up mail today :( sorry!” or “heavy box downstairs, u’ll have to ask someone else, sorry!” or “I stole ur cosmo, will return it tomorrow, thx!” And they’re nothing, they don’t tell her anything about you, about your personality or your likes and dislikes or whether you’re just doing this out of kindness or something else, but she starts to crave these notes.

She’s been here for who-knows-how-long, and she still hasn’t made any friends beyond work acquaintances. This feels like it’s important. Or, like it will be. One day she and you will sit in her living room, maybe drinking wine, maybe watching a movie, and you’ll look at her and laugh. She’ll ask what you’re laughing at, and you’ll say something like “Remember how we met? Remember all those notes I used to leave at your door?” And you’ll both laugh.

It’s just a sweet little idea, a little nice thought. But weeks pass, making it months, and while you continue to bring up her mail, it never goes further. The notes never become anything more.

Maybe you just need a push in the right direction? Maybe you just need to know that she feels the connection too?

Max takes a page out of your book and starts to leave you things at your door.

Just small things, objects that make her think of you. A flower from a photoshoot, a ticket to a local play you hadn’t ever mentioned but she’s pretty sure you’d still like, a soft plush cat that has a striking resemblance to the cat she’s never seen until she snuck into your apartment.

See, just nice things. Nice little gifts that you’ll like. And you won’t be able to ignore them either.

So it continues, with Max trying to think of the nicest little presents to give you, leaving them on her doorstep and on her counter and on her pillow, and you keep bringing up the mail and smiling wanly at her. And, there’s still nothing.

The tension between you and her could be cut with a knife, and she knows she won’t be able to keep her feelings to herself anymore, not with your cold shoulder and unfeeling ignorance.

It’s a lucky thing, when one morning, you board the elevator to the first floor with her. You smile, something fast, small, and polite, before digging in your pocket to pull out your phone. The screen lights up your face unpleasantly, the artificial light doesn’t do you any justice, and Max thinks this is not what she needs. It’s not what she deserves.

“Did you find them?” She can’t help but ask as the ninth floor goes by them.

You finally look up from your phone, something trepid in your expression. “What?”

“Did - did you find the gifts I’ve been leaving you?” Max asks, breathless.

You look at her fully, and don’t seem to realize you’re moving back, up against the wall. She follows you, how can she not? “You, you’ve been the one?” Your voice almost trembles. “You broke in?”

“I just wanted to show you my appreciation!”

The seventh floor rolls up up up. “You can’t do that. I can’t… Don’t touch me!” You yell.

Tears are welling up in your eyes and she didn’t think you’d take it this bad. Why would you? This isn’t right.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispers, brushing your tears away. “I just, I didn’t know how else to get your attention. Did you like them?” She asks, ignoring how your breathing has become shallow and how you look at her as if she’s hurt you. “I picked them out just for you, I thought you’d like them, do you? Do you like them?”


	18. [17] Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Those yandere! Nathan headcannons were so good! Could do a scenario with him and his crush where she asks him on a date.

“What?” Nathan hisses, his grip on his pencil is so tight he’s almost scared he’ll snap it in half.

Your smile drops a bit. “The notes?”

You gesture at the papers sprawled across his desk and he has to fight the urge to look and make sure your name is covered up. “You can’t use my notes,” he blurts out. And it’s true, you can’t. Too many mentions of you, too many times he’s written your name over and over and over. “But, we - we can study. Together, if you want.” It’s a stupid thing to say. As if he wants to spend more time with you beyond classes.

Smile perking up, you fish your phone out of a back pocket. “What’s your number?” You ask. “I’ll text you mine and we can set up a time!”

He rattles off the number, “and my name’s Nathan.” He mutters.

You nod, “Yeah, I know.” Your smile hasn’t left your fucking face and Nathan wants to beat himself to death with his own textbook. “Okay! I gotta get going, my next class is -”

“Econ, other side of campus,” he fills in. Realization hits him like a brick and he wants to die.

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” You ask.

“I gotta friend in that class,” he bluffs. “Anyway, sounds good. You’ll text me then?” He grabs his stuff, not bothering to put it away neatly as he shoves everything into his bag.

“Oh okay, yeah I will. Talk to you soon!”

You don’t look fully convinced but you give him a small wave before leaving, so… Nathan decides to take the win.

It’s halfway through his next class before his phone vibrates with a new text.

**_1:47 PM_  XXX-XXX-XXXX:**

Do you like coffee? i know this great cafe just a few blocks from campus :)


	19. [18] Josh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: huge continuation of the Wendigo Josh headcanons you had a while back, pretty pretty pretty please?? I really wanna know what he does with his love when he finds his mate, please let it get NSFW and possessive as Fuck! thank you!

He finds you. Of course he does.

He finds you and breaks into your apartment in the dead of night. You thought you’d managed to get away. You thought it’d been too long and too many miles and there was just no way, no way he could find you.

And then he’s there.

You don’t wake up when the window breaks, you don’t wake up when your door creaks open, you don’t even wake up when he slides into bed with you.

His hands roam your body, mapping your flesh, checking you for – what he’s not sure. He just knows it’s been too long, and he has to make sure you’re safe. You’re whole and safe and a l i v e.

It’s warm, your flesh. You’re warm. He buries his face into the spot between the bottom of your sternum and your stomach and he breathes your scent in. His tongue laps at you, tastes the salt of your sweat and you startle awake.

You manage to flail an arm and hit him right across the face. He snarls above you, lip and split skin curling and he pins you down on the bed. You pant, chest heaving, fingers grasp and claw at the sheets below you. The light from a streetlamp paints across your room, and you can see it’s Josh.

You don’t know how it’s him.

He was never found, assumed dead and –

“Josh?” You can’t help but stammer out.

He pulls back, he tries to say something. His mouth moves wrong, the flesh around his face is torn and changed, like his body is turning into something else. The sound is a distorted echo of a scream, monstrously inhuman. He flinches at his own voice and brings himself back down to you. He cuddles against you, rubs his unchanged cheek against your skin, like a mark.

He noses your collarbone and brushes his lips against it, mumbling something, it reverberates through your skin like he’s purring.

Josh rips through your underwear like it’s nothing. His hands are curved and broken, where his fingers should be they’ve grown into claw-like digits. They look like they could slice through you, a hot knife through butter, but he touches you feather-soft. A noise comes out of his mouth, it sounds like a glitch, like what a pixelated glitch would sound like if it was a noise..

You flinch at the noise, you can’t help it, it sounds so broken and wrong. “Josh, please,” you whisper; you try to move, to inch away from him. He grabs your hips and brings you back to the middle, his grip unforgiving. “Stop, you have to stop.” You beg.

He does, for a just a moment, and his head twitches and shakes as he stares at you. His eyes are wide, and his pupils twist from unnaturally small and pointed back into a circle, wide and paler than you remember. You watch as goosebumps rise on his skin, and he shivers under your gaze.

He tries to say something again, but it’s softer, like a gurgle in the front of his throat. He sits up a bit, and allows you to sit up too. He’s still cornering you, enough to stop you from getting out of the bed, but you try to ignore that for now. “What happened?” You finally ask, your hand reaches and stills right before you touch his cheek. “I – we, thought you were dead.”

Josh doesn’t reply, watches you rapt as you lower your hand.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” you say. You twist and turn to grab your phone from the nightstand. “Mike’s still probably up–”

Josh growls, deep and thunderous and he sounds like a dog. He grabs your phone from you and crushes it between his hands.

“Hey!” You yelp as he pulls you close to him, and he bites down deep in the junction connecting your neck and shoulder. You scream as blood gushes around his teeth and into his mouth and onto your skin. It spills, and you moan in pain, trying to push him off with only one arm. The other feels useless, like it’s hanging by a thread. It’s not, but you don’t dare move it. He laps at the wound, tongue digging into your torn flesh until you groan something guttural and deep and hurt.

Ignoring your splayed hand, trying to shove him away, he cradles you and pushes you down until your back is against the bed. Blood coats your sheets and your naked body, but you lay in it. Josh purrs again, and curls next to you. His arm goes over you, to hold you close, or to warn you not to run.


	20. [19] Emily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Fic title: A nightmare dressed like a daydream. (Maybe until dawn? Or whatever fandom)

Emily is a burning fire. You know this. Everyone who meets Emily knows it; a stigma written somewhere in her countenance, in the way she walks or talks, that she will hurt you.

You know this. You do. And you still love her.

The music pulses in the club, so loud that you can feel it as much as hear it. Echoing in your skin like an outside heart, Emily’s arms go up yours. Her hands, manicured to perfect stiletto points that have never hurt you as much as her words have, grip your shoulders tight. You wonder if she knows how tight she’s grabbed you, you wonder if she ever fears losing you.

She leans close, too close for comfort, hot breathe fans across your skin and you can taste the levels of drunk she is from here. “I love you,” she says, but it’s so loud it’s like a whisper.

You shiver under her arms and her gaze. It’s a lie. Tomorrow won’t be like this. Tomorrow will bring sobriety, and the horrible hangovers she gets after nights like these. Tomorrow will burn you just as much as tonight. Like a flame, it’ll crawl into your skin from her lips. Every kiss bringing you closer to death.

Emily grinds against you, and she knows where to touch, where to make you give in.

No one is good enough for you, she sighs into your ear, not even me. She licks a heavy, wet stripe from your jaw to almost your eye, too inebriated to judge. And even you know how fucking pathetic it is when a broken moan tears from your throat.

She just wants to fuck, you try to remember. You try to think of the ash in your mouth as she leaves every morning.

How you allow yourself to be burned for Emily and her need for you. Only her need. Never yours.

Emily cups your face and brushes her lips against yours. Her perfectly soft lips deepen the kiss, crushing your chapped lips under hers. But it’s a sweet crushing. It doesn’t hurt, only grounds you to this moment.

“Please,” she only asks when she’s drunk. “Please let me touch you.” And you want to be consumed.


	21. [20] Josh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: A scenario with josh and a female reader please! I love how you write for josh. The reader was someone who went up to the cabin with the group but has been his long time crush and with his mental state going down he wants her to stay with him on the mountain after everything happens. AU where they hide and the house doesn’t burn down in the end maybe?

“Where is everyone?”

Your voice pierces through the quiet and Josh flinches at the noise. “Oh,” he turns a little, keeping most of his attention on the eggs frying in the pan. “You’re awake! I didn’t,” he stammers for a moment, trying to keep his thoughts in order, trying to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t. “I didn’t think you’d wake up so early.”

It’s not actually that early; it’s almost noon. But none of the clocks have been set, and he has your phone safely tucked away, so it’s not like it matters.

You stand at the kitchen entrance, and it’s warm enough with the power back on, but you shiver under the blanket you’re wrapped up in. The space between the two of you feels too much, and he wants to cross it. Wants to wrap himself around you and know you’re here. You’re here.

“What happened?” You ask before he can make up his mind. “Where did everyone go?” Your voice is flat, tired, and you look it. Shadows under your eyes, you look a little ashen, like you’ve recently been sick. Maybe you have.

“Uh,” Josh looks away from you. “I made breakfast, you should probably eat.” He leaves the stove to find some plates.

“Josh!” You scream at him, and it’s too loud in this quiet house and he drops a plate. It shatters, and  **_fuck_ ** why’d you do that?

“What?” He snaps, looking up at you.

You look scared.

“Please,” you start, the word hitching like you’re going to cry. “Where is everyone? Why are we still here?”

A shudder rolls through him as he turns back to the mess.  _ This isn’t going to work, it won’t work won’t work _ \-- “I don’t know,” he steps over the mess to find a broom. “I woke up a few hours ago, and I couldn’t find anyone else.” He says it brusque, hoping you won’t recognize him lying. “I don’t know what happened, but it’s just us up here.”


	22. [21] Josh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: I was hoping to request a yandere Josh from Until Dawn just stalking reader in their daily life and fantasizing about what he’d like to do to them? Nsfw preferred :3c

_‘I’m feeling electric tonight … I know if I go, I’ll die happy tonight.’_

Josh reads the caption under your latest post. You’re smiling in front of a rundown gas station. The picture’s been taken by someone else, obviously catching you off guard, you aren’t looking at the camera, your smile is wide and open like you’re laughing. The fluorescent lights frame you and – you do look electric. So alive and unafraid and  **so**  happy.

Something base and hungry inside of him wants to eat you whole, wants that vibrant life inside of himself, wants to hear it singing in his veins.

He screenshots it instead and saves it in a special folder. Debates if he should set it as his home-screen, but that picture is one of his all-time favorites. He took it, personally, and every time he opens his phone he can taste sweetness and tartness on his tongue. It tastes like something stolen.

Finally, he decides not to change it; it’s almost like a private photo just for him, no reason to change it up right now. Back on Instagram, he scrolls down your wall. Nothing’s been changed, no new updates since this morning, but it’s nice. Seeing you. Yeah, it’s all artificial. When your friends grace your photos Josh can’t help but cringe at how fake and plastic they all look. They pose, you… you  **live**.

And it’s not like he’s really into Instagram, that was more up his sisters’ alley than his, but if you asked he would learn to like it. He’d learn to like taking your picture and taking them with you. Maybe you’d kiss his cheek for one of them, and the caption would be an obscure lyric from the first song you listened to with him.

Maybe you’d take private pictures, just for him. What would you do? Something sweet and soft, or sexy and dangerous? Something else? He feels his face burn, even though you haven’t and probably wouldn’t do that. Just the thought though…

Rolling his eyes at his own behavior, he opens a new tab and types in Facebook and there you are, your page one of the most opened urls he has. It’s been an hour or two, so there’s a good chance you haven’t posted anything, but he likes to keep an eye on you. And –

_Oh._

You’re going to be at the mall soon. If you’re not already there. It’s a little rash, but if he hurries… Josh hesitates for a second, and then ‘x’es out of the browser.


	23. [22] Jess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Yandere jess with a female reader. I just want to see more of her, she’s too cute. Even when she is yandere. It’s set in the time of the game. The reader is Jess’s first love. They have been friends since middle school and they have done everything together. It’s the typical girly friendship but jess loves her more than a friend. Them and a bunch of friends go out to the cabin (when the prank was pulled on Hannah and Beth.) and Jess gets rejected.

Jess huffs and grabs your hands. “You’ve been here before,” she laughs as she rubs your hands between her own. Her gloves are rough on your skin, but the friction quickly warms them. “You should know better.” And she sounds like she’s scolding you, but her smile is soft and sweet as she looks at you.

It’s all a little too earnest for you. “I know, and they’re warmed up now, you can stop!” Grinning, you pull away, and you ignore how her face falls. She always acts like you’ve hurt her. You turn back to the group.

You don’t want to be so sharp with her, but her behavior lately has gone a little too far past friendly. Maybe you were a little too harsh, though. It is cold, you really shouldn’t have forgotten your gloves. The group jokes as they all walk up to the house, and Jess walks beside you, her hand brushing your’s as you walk.

—

“What if we went to the cabin?” Jess asks, but she’s already pulling you out of your seat as if you’ve agreed.

You laugh, and it’s a stretched noise, a little too thin and brittle. “What?” You shake your head and pull your arm back to yourself, but she won’t let go. “No, everybody’s here. And they’ll get the electricity going soon, it’ll be fine, just give it a couple minutes.”

“It’d be more fun than just hanging around here, though,” she huffs.

“Why don’t you ask Mike then?” It’s a cruel comment, and you know it but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “I’m sure he’s dying to be alone with you.”

Blood floods her face and she looks away, crossing her arms. “I don’t want to go with him.” She says after a minute. “I’d rather go with you.”

Your patience snaps. “Well, I don’t want to go with you! What’re you gonna do? Try to jump me the moment we’re alone? For fuck’s sake, can’t you tell I’m not interested in you?” You explode. The words taste like ash, but you can’t stop talking. “I’m not gay, and even if I was it wouldn’t be for you! Can’t you take a fucking hint?!”

Jess’s eyes well up and her face crumples. You want to scream, she’s acting like a such a child. “Whatever,” she says, her voice wobbly and thick. “I - I -” She shuts her mouth, finally, and grabs her bag. She nearly runs up the stairs, probably to find an empty room.

And then you’re alone. You run a hand over your face and sigh angrily. You’re going to have to apologize before the trip is over, you know it. Well, at least you have time, it’s not like anyone’s going anywhere soon.


	24. [23] Moira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira/Reader – slightly established relationship, not in your favor. Set right after Moira leaves Overwatch.

Electricity hums through the lights above you, louder the brighter they glow, and then quiet as they dim. You keep your eyes trained at the lights, counting the seconds between light and darkness. Counting your breaths in and out. There’s a vent somewhere close, cool air rushes over your skin but its rhythm isn’t the same as the lights, and you keep losing count in your head.

You close your eyes tight, air washes over you, and you shiver so hard your body seizes for a moment. Muscles taut and clenching, trying to generate heat for you.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Moira says from beside you. She’s not even looking at you, but she must hear your teeth chattering. She searches through yet another box, trying to find some supplies that she won’t mention to you just yet. You think she just likes making everything a bit more dramatic than it needs to be.

“That’s rich,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Moira stands then, her full focus on you. “Hmm?” She’s giving you an opportunity to stop, to apologize. Not like it’ll matter, but like you thought - dramatics. “Do you have something you’d like to say?” She sweeps around and cradles your face from the top of the table. Her nails scratch gently, and her skin is almost as cold as the air from the vent.

“N-no, Moira.” You stammer out.

“What?” She chuckles, and you’re reminded yet again that she is human. “Cat got your tongue?” Her fingers reach and pry into your mouth, she grabs your tongue and pulls on it.

You try to answer, but anything discernable is muffled by her fingers. She tugs until it hurts, until tears are welling up in the corner of your eyes, before she lets go. “Maybe we should remove a few of these teeth…” She says, but it’s more a note for herself than it is for you. Absently, she wipes her fingers on your cheek, the saliva immediately cold upon your skin.

She turns and finds a different box to search in.

You can’t help yourself, you have to know. “Moira,” you start, and you have to pause. The straps holding you down to the table feel heavy. “When are you going to let me go?”

She stops, for a moment, but doesn’t say anything. The lights hum above, and it’s just another reminder that this isn’t the Overwatch headquarters.

“Another experiment, or two, but then…?” You ask, your voice shakes but you have to know. “Please?”

“Of course, kitten.” She doesn’t turn or look at you. “Just a few more, and then you’re free to go.”


	25. [24] Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: nsfw hanzo/reader with heavy impreg talk (“I have our life together planned down to where the wedding will be and number of kids”) kinda stuff, heavy use of pet names like “princess,” and maybe even a bit of branding if you’re cool with that?

Hanzo stares at you, his eyes boring into your very soul. It’s too much and you have to pull him back down to kiss you. He breathes, and the warm air fans across your skin. He smells like aftershave and mint; it’s almos tunfair how put together he is and how much you aren’t.

In fact, it’d only been three dates, and you’re not usually one to put out so soon, but Hanzo - with his cold eyes and cold cash - had been so incredibly sweet to you, that you’d almost pulled him into bed.

He rolls his hips and snaps his cock into you, like it’s a move he’s done a million times at the gym. He kisses a hot, sticky trail down to your neck, biting and sucking at the hollow in your throat until a bruise rises.

“I can’t wait,” he says.

  
“For what?” You pant.

“For the future, princess.” He says, his voice soft, almost wistful. His hand drifts down, and his thumb rubs against your clit and you almost miss his next words and how close he’s bringing you to the edge. “Thinking of what you’ll look like, at our wedding. I’m thinking, spring – when all the cherry blossoms have bloomed. You’ll look so beautiful.”

You still. Hanzo continues to fuck you, but you suddenly aren’t into it. “That’s - we’ve only had three dates.” You try to keep your voice calm, maybe it’s a bad joke. “Marriage is a long time away, if it ever happens.”

He shakes his head, doesn’t even seem to notice how you turn your head as he leans to kiss you again. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, princess.” He smiles. “No reason to keep on waiting.”

“Don’t call me that,” you push against his chest, but he refuses to move. “What do you mean you’ve been waiting? We just met two weeks ago!”

A faint blush rises to his face as he finally stops moving in you. “I’ve… not been completely honest. I’ve actually been pursuing you for quite some time. I’m so happy you’ve realized what’s best for you.” He says simply.

“Wait – what?!”

But his hips thrust again and you groan at the sudden intrusion, too tight and too much filling you. His hands come up to grope your breasts. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “See, I’m going to fill your cunt with so much cum,” he smiles, all teeth. “I’m going to breed you like the fucking beautiful princess you are.” He kisses you, ignoring how you struggle underneath him.

“No, no! You, you had a condom -!”

He shakes his head and laughs. It sounds mean, like he’s laughing at you. Like he thinks he’s better than you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t want to lie to you, but how else was I going to impregnate you?” He pulls you up and turns you onto your stomach. “Don’t worry,” his voice is low, back to that kind voice he’d used on the previous dates. “I’m going to take good care of you and our babies.”


	26. [25] Junkrat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: “You almost killed me, so no, it’s not nice to meet you.” And junkrat?

Pain stabs across your body as you try again to sit up. It’s too much and too sharp, a wet sob leaves you as you lower yourself back down. The junker is still staring at you from across the room. His eyes intense, flicking up and down your body, and you have no doubt he can read each and every injury on you. “Stop looking at me.” The words scrape out of your throat and taste like blood.

“C'mere and stop me,” his smile is wide and jagged. “Y'can’t blame me anyway, not everyday I get to meet a genuine Overwatch member.”

He steps closer, his metal leg tap-tapping against the concrete sends echoes throughout the rest of the building you grit your teeth. You’re helpless, you can’t even get to the gun in your holster. “Seems like you knew this was gonna happen.”

He giggles, a grating, biting noise. “Got eyes and ears everywhere, mate,” he squats down and pats your knee and stars explode in your vision. “Not my fault you made it so easy to find you.”

You choke on your words, tears still gathered in the corners of your eyes. “… So what’re you going to do now? Kill me?”

His fingers tap a wild beat against his leg as he ponders for a moment. “Nah, I don’t think so. Think you’d be better as a hostage, with that cute face an’ all.” He shoves his hand into yours, shaking it hard. “Name’s Jamison Fawkes, but you can call me Junkrat! Nice to meet ya, mate!”

You try to tear your hand out of his grip, and after a second he lets you go. “You almost got me killed,” you’re probably going to die anyway, hostage or not. “So no, it’s not nice to meet you.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a full hyena laugh, raucous and loud. “Silly dag, I wasn’t trying to kill ya, just trap you.” He shrugs and leans down to pick you up. “You’re the one that messed everything up! C'mon now,” he hefts you in his arms and you nearly scream in pain. “Let’s get you all fixed up!”


	27. [26] Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Could I ask for a scenario where the reader has gone through hardships within the year (ie being homeless, treated like the bad guy in her family, neglected emotionally, etc.) but comes in contact with the one and only Tony Stark who becomes kinda super obsessed with her and just general yandere-ness?

“Oh, you got my name right this time,” Mr. Stark sounds pleasantly surprised, a smile playing across his face as he looks at the writing on the paper cup.

You shrug a little, feeling nervous and already apologizing. “Sorry, sometimes I just can’t think of anything, too much going on.” You gesture helplessly at the nearly empty cafe. It’s a stupid joke, but you’re hoping it’ll push him out the doors. He laughs instead, a little huff of noise as he looks at you.

“Well,” he leans against the counter. “It’s only been a few months since we met, I’m happy you’ve finally made a little time for me.” He teases, and you can feel the rush of blood in your cheeks.

“Gotta make time for my favorite customer,” you grab a rag to wipe down the counters, anything to look busy and hide your face. “It doesn’t hurt that you tip pretty well.” Which, is true. There’s always a fifty or a hundred in the tip jar after a Stark visit. It doesn’t make his visits really worth it, to you, but it’s a nice little reward.

Tony waves his hand, as if it’s inconsequential. To him it probably is. “It’s no biggie,” he smiles and takes a sip of his drink. “So, you got any big plans this weekend?” He looks out the window as he asks, his tone casual.

You shrug again, “Just work, I guess. Apartment won’t pay for itself.”

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

He doesn’t look nervous, but his fingers tap against his cup like a betrayal. “Have you ever flown in a jet? We could go somewhere. Someplace warm,” he chuckles, and you can’t say anything. “Oh, uh, just for the weekend. Nothing, too long or anything.” He says, as if that makes it better.

“Um,” you have to interrupt, “I don’t… know if that’d be a great idea.”

Tony’s shoulders fall, just a bit. “Why not?”

“You’re… Tony Stark? And I’m a nobody barista?” You try again. “And, we don’t really know each other that well.”

“That can change,” he says.

You shake your head. “Thank you for the offer, though.” You say, hoping it’s enough.

He seems to wrestle with some words, some thoughts. “Okay,” he finally says. He doesn’t look too upset, which is good. “Well, see you next time, kid.”

Slipping a hundred into the tip jar, he grins at you and winks, and you give a weak smile.

Hopefully, next time, someone else will be on bar.


	28. [27] Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Hero Reader and Yandere Thor: After Thanos snaps his fingers Hero Reader disappears in front of Yandere Thor and the God of Thunder just crumbles.

Thanos was in Thor’s grasp, and now he’s gone. The battlefield is quiet, but there’s something clawing in his gut. “Where’d he go?” Rogers asks, but he doesn’t know. **  
**

He opens his mouth, about to ask about - you - the rest of the team - where are you - but you stumble out of trees into the clearing.  And it’s a gut instinct, he knows something is wrong, but it takes almost a full second to realize what it is.

You look past him, like you can’t see him, like you’re confused, and you raise your hand. The surge of power flickers unnaturally, then goes out like a flame. Fingertips, fingers, palm, wrist, they disintegrate into a fine dust. It’s taking all of you.

Thor doesn’t even know he’s moving until he’s reaching for you, and you look at him then, and you’re trying to say something, but his hands close on you, and you’re gone.

Dust trickles from his fists. This is all you are now.

You’re gone.

He failed. Thanos was there, and he failed.

Falling to his knees, he can hear Rogers, and there are other voices around them, wailing, screaming, but there is a grief in his throat he can’t get past.

Half of the universe is gone, Thor’s people are slaughtered, Loki is dead, and you – he’s killed you.


	29. [28] Jacob Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: far cry 5 yandere jacob with a fem reader? hes got a weird creepy stalker vibe to him, like just watchin them from the trees and creepin them out, gradually escalatin the stalkin with stealin their stuff till they come home one night and hes waitin for them in their room,,,, nsfw? and noncon if its ok??

The thought of leaving the Whitetail Mountains has crossed your mind before. The more Jacob Seed has gotten a foothold in the region, the more dangerous it’s become. And sure, it’s nearly as dangerous in John or Faith’s regions, but they’re not as violent. Not as terrifying. So, according to logic, you should’ve moved a long time ago. Really should’ve left Montana once Joseph’s deeds became known.

But you didn’t. You didn’t leave then, and you didn’t leave as Jacob grabbed more and more of the region.

You’re a fucking idiot.

And now, now you’re finally reaping the consequences.

Jacob’s in your room.

And you wouldn’t have believed it unless you’d seen it, but here he is. Almost as big as you’d imagined, he somehow feels more dangerous. Like a panther, which, it’s stupid to be thinking of animals, but he’s just sitting there, waiting for you to make the wrong move, and then – then he’ll pounce. Then he’ll have you, he’ll have your throat between his jaws and he’ll crush those jaws until your windpipe bursts and –

He whistles, and you stiffen. “I’m surprised you haven’t run yet,” he says, his tone light.

“I don’t think I’d manage to get far,” you admit, your mouth is so dry, and the adrenaline makes your limbs buzz with the need to run.

Chuckling, he smiles at you, it’s a vicious cut across his face. A bearing of teeth more than a smile. “You’re right.” He straightens up, and you flinch. He tisks at you, “I haven’t hurt you yet, and you’re already so afraid.” But he’s not remorseful. His lips stretch to show more of his teeth. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, girl,” and he can’t seem to smile right but his voice is just right. Soothing and soft, like he’s talking to something wild, something made to run.

You want to lie, to tell him you aren’t afraid, but it’s obvious, and there’s no use in lying. “What do you want?” You manage to ask.

“You haven’t joined the Project yet,” he starts, taking a step closer. “And you haven’t been seen aiding the resistance.” He steps closer again, and he’s so much taller than you, you try to breathe, try to stay calm. “So where do you lie?”

“Wh-what?” And your voice shakes, you can’t help it as he reaches to touch your face.

He cups your jaw and makes you look at him. “Most people have chosen a side, and you haven’t.” He ignores your question, his rough hand scraping against your skin. “That’s alright with me. I’d much rather,” he sighs as he looks at you, “have you to myself.”

A small, terrified whine escapes your mouth and you try to move back, but his grip is unrelenting. “I don’t, don’t,” you stammer, trying to find some words to possibly persuade him otherwise.

“Shh, shh,” his teeth are gleaming white and he’s so close you can smell… “You don’t even have to talk.” Bliss. You can smell bliss flowers.

He sweeps you up in his arms, and you should be fighting this. You should be kicking and screaming and clawing until he lets you go, but your vision is glitteringly soft, and now it seems so far away.

You breathe in, relaxing as the scent fills your lungs, and rest your head against Jacob’s chest. He’s solid beneath you, strong. You close your eyes, you’re safe, you can feel it.


	30. [29] John Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested: Hi, if possible can you please do something about a Yandere Deputy kidnapping on of the Seed siblings? (I prefer John, but who ever is your favorite)

Your hands tremble as you hold John’s face in your hands, even with the gag in his mouth your nerves are screaming  _danger! danger! danger!_

And you are terrified. Your hands are trembling, but he is shaking violently against the ropes, eyes narrowed into hateful slits as deep, guttural noises come from behind the rag.

“Please,” you whisper, “please, you have to calm down. I can’t remove it till I know you’re calm.”

It takes a few minutes. Your desperate whispers and his groaning screams, before finally he tires himself out.

“Okay, here we go,” you say, gently maneuvering the rag out of his jaw. It’s soaked with his sweat and saliva, but you drop it onto the floor beside you as John takes a deep breath. “Do you want some water?”

You stand up from his lap and he glares at you. “You ungrateful wretch,” He hisses, voice dripping with venom as if he means to kill you in the spot. “I should’ve drowned you that night, I should’ve fucking killed you.”

It cuts. Words aren’t meant to cut, but you think you’d rather be bleeding than hear that again. “Joseph,” you start, words thick in your throat. “He wouldn’t have wanted that. He told you to love me.” Water pours into the glass. “You have to love me.”

John doesn’t say anything. He watches you as you bring the glass to him and hold it for him.

“C'mon, it’s been a few hours, you’ve got to be thirsty,” you say.

He finally drinks, eyes closing, throat undulating, and you feel your heart skip in this simple gesture. Water spills from the sides, down his lips and chin and slipping past his throat and you suddenly wonder what he tastes like.

Can you taste Joseph’s blessings on his skin? Can you taste the salvation?

He makes a noise, and you realize he’s done. “Better?” The word is barely out of your mouth as you move away, when he spits a mouthful of water at you. Splashes across the side of your face, into your hair and down your shirt.

“Fuck you.” He says, hateful eyes above a cruel smirk.

You look at him, a smile gracing your face. “A poor man’s baptism, I’m sure, but I accept it.”

He stills and then scoffs. “What?”

“I accept,” you say, stepping closer. “I believe in the father, and his word, and his brother. I believe in you.”


End file.
